Bookman's wake

He looked at the clock. “It’s getting late.”

I apologized for eating up his evening.

“A few more questions?”

He nodded. “Make it quick, though. I’ve got a headache coming on.”

I took Eleanor’s address book out of my pocket and opened it to the Grayson page.

“Does the name Nola Jean Ryder mean anything to you?”

He took off his glasses and squinted at the book, then at me.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“It just came up,” I said, not wanting to tell him. “It’s probably not important.”

“She was one of Richard’s…girls.”

“Is she still around?”

He gave a faint smile. “Thinking of talking to her?”

“Sure, if I can.”

“What could you possibly hope to gain by talking to one of Richard’s old whores?”

“Is that what she was?”

He shrugged.

“It’s like you said yourself,” I said. “With a man like Grayson, who knows where the answers are?”

He grunted. “You think she’s got your Raven ?”

Before I could answer, he said, “You’ll find everything that’s known about Nola Jean Ryder in Trish’s book.”

“You sure make her sound mysterious.”

“Do I? I don’t mean to, though she’s certainly mysterious enough. She disappeared after the fire and she hasn’t been seen since.”

We looked at each other and the questions rose in my throat. He cut them off unasked. “Look, I don’t know a damn thing about that. I told you before, this is not my thing. If you want to talk about Grayson’s books , then I’m your man. But if you’re interested in people, especially the whores in their lives, then you’ll have to ask Trish. Or read her book.”

I started to put the address book away.

“What other names do you have in there?” He was suspicious now, his tone accusing.

I looked at the page. “Jonelle Jeffords.”

He shrugged.

“Rodney Scofield.”

He sat up with a start. “What about Scofield?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you.”

“Did Scofield send you here?”

“I don’t even know the man.”

He looked dubious.

“Really.”

“Then where’d you get his name?”

“It’s just something I picked up.”

“Of course it is.” His tone was suddenly mocking, almost hostile. “Really, sir, I think you’ve been taking advantage of me.”

“I can’t imagine how.”

“Can’t you really? Do you think I’m a complete idiot? You come in here and I don’t know you from Solomon Grundy. How do I know who you are or what you really want? You’ll have to leave now. I’m tired.”

Just that quickly, I was hustled to the door.